


Anything

by QueenThayet, swtalmnd



Category: Swan Song - Fandom
Genre: Band Fic, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Mattrick, Porn with Feelings, Romance, not actually songfic but kinda sorta because mattrick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 16:46:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14981318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenThayet/pseuds/QueenThayet, https://archiveofourown.org/users/swtalmnd/pseuds/swtalmnd
Summary: Patrick decides to look Matt's solo hits up on youtube, and gets more than he bargained for. And then he gets more of Matt.





	Anything

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kate_the_reader](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kate_the_reader/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Swan Song (Part 1)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14235717) by [earlgreytea68](https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlgreytea68/pseuds/earlgreytea68). 



> happy late birthday, kate_the_reader! we're going to drag you into our 2-person fandom whether you like it or not, using some of your favorite things.

Caught up in the whirlwind that was Matt, Patrick hadn't had a lot of time for indulging his reawakened curiosity. He'd let Matt out of the box in his heart and now he wanted to know everything he'd missed, everything he'd never let himself see or hear or feel. So once Mrs. Honeycutt had taken Adam, and he'd taken Bach on her walk, Patrick took himself and youtube back to bed to look up Matt's solo career.

He typed "Matt Usher" into the search bar and then, after getting a whole lot of clips and interviews about reality tv, added "official music video." The second result showed Matt in a disheveled suit singing to the camera, achingly familiar to Patrick, and was called "Anything."

Patrick took a deep breath and hit play.

The video started out white and then panned out to a black-and-white room, black iron bed with snow-white covers, everything simple and monochrome. The only spot of color in the was room Matt's face -- even Matt's clothes were black and white. And if he'd made the rumpled suit his Swan look, this was a suit of another order altogether, perfectly crisp, three pieces and tailored like it was sewn onto him, showing off every inch of his body in the most flattering manner possible.

The music had started in subtly, a sensual sort of pop beat that would've been a big club hit, great for the kind of dancing that bordered on illegal. Matt's voice, when it came in, was on the rough end of his range, the huskiness played up into something positively sexual, and it took a second for Patrick to yank his brain out of his pants and listen to the lyrics.

_I clean up nice, I dress the part_   
_and no one sees my broken heart_   
_but walking around unseen is nothing new_

Matt strutted around the monochrome room, singing to the camera, singing to himself, pulling his suit aside and running his hands through his hair and being sexily dramatic in the most Matt way possible. His tie was loosened, suit jacket unbuttoned, and he was starting to look more like the Matt from Swan when he finished out the verse.

_Bad boy, nice guy, singer, rockstar_   
_I played the game and I got far_   
_but the only one I did it for was you_

Patrick felt Matt's voice reaching through the tiny screen, that intent stare that was so much a thing Patrick knew was for him now, in a way he'd never have survived if he'd let himself understand before. He regretted, a little bit, not having run to Matt at the very first moment this song was available, but he loved his kids and his life and he didn't regret any of that so he tried not to regret this. Even when the chorus resulted in Matt stripping off his tie, posing and dancing and seducing with every line of his body, a challenge and an offer in black and white and pale flesh pink.

_So break me down, strip me bare,_   
_until you see what’s always there_   
_you are my everything,_   
_I’ll be your anything_

"Fuck," whispered Patrick, closing his eyes for just a moment to the raw look Matt was giving up close to the camera, to Patrick.

When he opened them, the song had moved on and so, apparently, had some of Matt's clothing, his tie missing and shoes off and jacket just being flung into a corner where it blended perfectly into the black chair waiting to catch it.

_Touch me, feel me, hurt me, heal me_   
_tell me what you want me to be_   
_give the word and I’ll put on a show_

In the absence of anyone else's hands, Matt was doing just that -- touching himself, posing, strutting and singing, making an offer he couldn't refuse. And stripping, christ, this entire thing was just one long strip tease, something that felt like it should have been sordid except they'd overexposed everything and driven up the contrast, shot it as art instead of porn, one flushed pink rock star as the only warmth and color in a black-and-white world.

_Suit and tie, hat and vest,_   
_you know who I am the best_   
_the costume doesn’t mean a thing you know_

More suit came off and they got into the chorus, the vest tossed somewhere, cufflinks -- and when the fuck had Matt worn cufflinks? -- slipped into some black box that just swallowed their silver glint, shirt untucked and rumpled and unbuttoned a bit at a time. Matt had kept up with his hair, too, and now when it came time for the bridge he looked positively sex-mussed, mouth somehow redder whether from biting his lips, adding makeup, or just fixed in post.

_You whisper everything into my skin_   
_every touch you take says let me in_   
_I let you in_   
_Oh, please, come in?_

The camera zoomed in close on his face for the bridge, fingers running down from temple to chin, his pinky trailing over his lips as it went past so all you could see was the edge of his mouth as he rasped out, "come in."

"Fuck," said Patrick again with feeling, hand going to the front of his pants. He hadn't intended to end up jerking off to Matt's videos, but he could admit to himself that he'd taken this to the bedroom because it was a possibility.

The camera zoomed back out and found Matt sprawled out on the bed, shirt open and hands roaming over his torso while he writhed. His hands trailed down the front of his pants and Patrick groaned, popping the button on his jeans while Matt was doing the same thing in front of him.

_You want it slow? Or maybe fast?_   
_all I know’s this has to last_   
_I’ll do anything to make you mine_

Patrick groaned out loud when Matt slid his pants down and revealed the real surprise, a lacy garter belt and sheer black stockings with lace tops, and a lovely pair of black silk panties. Matt's skin was flushed and glistening, and he slid his pants off gracefully, rolling over and spreading his legs, fucking his hips down into the bed like it was a lover while simultaneously, obviously, offering up his silk-clad ass to the camera.

_I’m your virgin and your whore_   
_tell me what you want me for_   
_come and taste the fruit right off the vine_

The rest of the verse was absolutely perfect for the image of Matt undulating on the bed, rolling back over and posing, alluring and riding that line between top and bottom the way he'd always done best, offering whatever the viewer wanted to see in him. Frankly, Patrick had no idea how anyone could have seen this video and not see how much Matt liked to be fucked, but at the same time there were enough rough thrusts of his hips to let you imagine yourself, himself, riding on top of that gorgeous body. Matt was practically glowing with lushness there in the too-white bed, his skin golden-pink and his hair a dark smudge against the pillows and even that had been given a warm chestnut tone.

_So break me down, strip me bare_   
_there is nothing I won’t dare_   
_you are my everything,_   
_I’ll be your anything_

Matt crawled over the huge bed toward the camera as he sang the final chorus, a feral creature that would only eat you just as much as you wanted to be eaten. The video faded out to black, a contrast to the white start, Matt taking them on a journey from buttoned-up to fucked out in four minutes and thirteen seconds.

"Fuck," said Patrick again, dropping his phone and getting himself out, palming his cock and replaying the images of Matt in that suit, out of that suit, over and over in his head. 

He got a rhythm going and just about jumped out of his skin when Matt's voice said, "Oh, yes, the suit is bespoke. Everything for that video was handmade just for me, actually. We couldn't really find the right accessories that would, you know, fit everything inside."

Patrick snatched his phone back up to see Matt lounging in some video interview, all rock star chic and sly grin as he gestured up and down his body in a way that made it obvious he meant his dick.

"Does that mean you kept it all?" asked the interviewer, some soft-voiced woman whose initial question had either been edited out or too quiet for Patrick to hear when he'd been otherwise occupied.

Matt smiled at the camera, all coy and sex in a package, and said, "Of course I've still got it. I mean, wouldn't you?"

She laughed and the clip ended, moving on to whatever else was in the playlist, which turned out to be "Anything" performed live with the same driving, sexy beat but thankfully sans lingerie-clad striptease. Patrick wasn't sure he could've handled the idea of Matt stripping like that in front of a live crowd for an entire tour, even though he'd done it in front of the whole world for his music video.

This time he turned off the autoplay before going back to what he'd been doing, skipping back to that first video and watching it again with the express and slightly guilty intention of getting himself off to the images Matt had so obviously intended him to see. To have seen before this, before now.

He got a lot farther along this time before Matt's voice startled him again, this time from the doorway where Matt was leaning and giving him the Patrick-only version of his sly, flirty look from earlier. "And here I thought I was keeping you satisfied."

"Fuck," said Patrick, letting himself go with a wry laugh. "That was before I knew you'd done a strip tease in front of the whole world and then wore bespoke panties. How does anyone still think you're straight?"

"Statistically more straight men crossdress than gay ones," said Matt flippantly, laying himself out over Patrick like he belonged there. "You liked it."

"Of course I liked it," said Patrick, pulling him in for a deep kiss. "I'm sorry I didn't hear it when you needed me to," he added, half a whisper in Matt's ear.

Matt kissed him again and snuggled up, hard against him but not urgent, stealing away Patrick's own urgency and replacing it with the heat they'd been building, rebuilding, since Matt returned. "I still have the outfit," he said, instead of anything Patrick had been expecting.

Patrick groaned, hands moving of their own accord to loosen Matt's clothing, to pet his hair and his back, touch all the skin he'd seen and been denied in the video. "I don't need it if I have you," he said between kisses, unable to stop the addiction of kissing Matt even to talk about sex with Matt. "But I won't say no to a surprise at some later date."

Matt beamed delightedly and let his hands to work, the two of them shifting and laughing as they got naked, a whole morning ahead of them devoid of children in which to play more adult games. 

They ended up with Matt sprawled out and mussed in a decent recreation of the video, hair soft in the mid-morning light and face so full of longing that Patrick had to kiss him over and over again, to lay on top of him and do all those things he'd been thinking about while watching the rock star version of him.

"I'm going to eat you up and have you slow," Patrick whispered into his skin, not quite quoting the song but promising more than a performance, a costume, an image of intimacy. That Matt on the screen had been for Patrick, but he'd also been for millions of fans and viewers. This Matt here was just for him, for them, and Patrick was going to take him apart and put him back together less brokenhearted than before.

"Anything," said Matt, "Everything."

"Always," agreed Patrick. He followed a path along Matt's shoulder, soft kisses full of affection, tongue sliding back along a collarbone so he could nuzzle at the underside of Matt's jaw and bite softly at the stubble there. Every part of Matt seemed appetizing right now, and Matt's beautiful, predictable reaction was to moan and melt, hands finding Patrick's hair and skin and clinging like Patrick was the only solid thing in his world.

Matt always fell apart so easily for Patrick, his body open to every whim, and today Patrick was determined to appreciate every last inch of him. His mouth moved over each little plane and angle, each valley and curve and familiar bump, shoulders and chest and breastbone, ribs and pecs and the delightful complexity of his nipples. They crinkled up for him, crisp little hairs tickling his tongue pleasantly and Matt's moans rumbling through his chest as Patrick teased them with tongue and teeth. 

Matt's voice was musical to him even when it was rough with pleasure and wanting, and Patrick brought him up to a fever pitch before he even moved down to rub his face in the softness of his stomach. Patrick teasingly dipped his tongue in Matt's navel and, when that got a needy whimper, decided exactly what his next destination was.

Matt protested when Patrick's mouth slid to one side and then the other, ignoring the very obvious landmark between the hollows of his hips in favor of worshipping the shape of muscle and bone on either side. He followed the crease down between legs that fell obediently wider, nuzzled his way back behind Matt's warm balls and then spread Matt wide open and started licking his way in. Matt's reaction was as gratifying as he could have hoped for, groaning and arching, pushing himself at Patrick's eager mouth with one shaky hand tangled in Patrick's hair.

Patrick licked and teased, nibbled and kissed, using every trick he had and trying to think up new ones just to keep his mind occupied with something other than how badly he wanted to fuck Matt through the floor right now. His hips were rolling slowly, rubbing his damp cock against the sheets while he worked his tongue around and inside Matt's greedy entrance. By the time his jaw was getting too tired to keep going, Matt was a sobbing wreck and his tight muscle had softened into a welcoming embrace that grasped at Patrick's tongue on each thrust.

Patrick kissed his wet way down Matt's thighs and wiped his face on the sheets. "Lube?" he asked, glad he didn't sound too tongue-tied despite the extensive exercise.

Matt huffed a breathless laugh and fumbled in the nightstand, which brought the bottle close enough to let Patrick lean over and grab it and also steal kisses because he knew Matt would let him, would allow pretty much anything when he was like this. Patrick would work hard to be worthy of that trust.

"Love you," said Matt, eyes dazed and soft and hot.

"Love you," said Patrick, intent and greedy. He followed it up with another kiss, and another, and then sang softly, "All I know's this has to last."

Matt moaned and writhed under him, arching up to rub their cocks together. "F-fuck that's hot."

"And I don't even have stockings on," teased Patrick, taking a little space to slow them both down so he could slick himself up, get Matt wet and open with his fingers while they shared a different kind of tease.

Matt moaned and laughed all in one delightful noise, and his ass fluttered around Patrick's fingers in a way that made Patrick moan, too. That brought them back to the matter at hand, and Patrick resumed kissing Matt like he was drowning and Matt was the only source of air. He loved the feeling of Matt inside, silky and clinging and just so fucking hot for him that it broke him open a little to think of how long he denied them both this. He kissed Matt again and again, promises and apologies and every silent wish he could give them that they'd never have to write fighting songs, heartbreak songs, ever again.

Patrick distracted himself the best way he knew, sliding inside Matt, deep and slow, and taking him apart all over again, one thrust at a time. He tangled their fingers together and slid Matt's hands overhead, held him down and rolled his hips and drank in every single sound that fell from those kiss-wet lips, whimpers and moans and little hitching noises that Patrick didn't even have a name for except Matt.

When Matt looked like he might break entirely, Patrick rolled them over, made Matt ride him so he could watch the elegant line of his body, see every taut muscle and tremble of pleasure. Patrick thrust up to meet Matt's hips every time he came down. Matt angled to get the most out of each movement and cried out when Patrick hit the right spot over and over. Patrick slipped his thumbs along the crease of his hips and held on, watching his cock bounce and gleam in the late morning light, drops of fluid like jewels sliding down the shaft as they picked up the pace.

They were both panting and sweaty when Patrick sat up and changed everything again, gathering Matt close, slowing down and turning things from showy to intimate. Patrick loved this one thing about them now, that they could go on for more than two minutes, they could change the tempo, shift the beat up and down and the key from major to minor, from sexy to sweet, and still go back again for the big finish.

Matt melted into him, sweaty and panting but so ready to just be with Patrick that it hurt his heart all over again, just a little. He'd never get to walk away from this again and now he didn't even want to, with Matt so sweet and pliant in his lap, hips making little circles now to keep them both hard but not bothering with anything more athletic.

"Mm," said Matt, a murmur of contentment into Patrick's neck. "S'good."

"So good," Patrick whispered, half sang, thinking of a song now that could take advantage of these moods, deconstructing itself and reconstructing in newer, better ways with every verse and chorus. Matt tightened and he lost his grip on the thought, gasping out, "Love, love you."

Matt chuckled wickedly and sang, voice hoarse and fucked-out and so, so perfect. "You are my everything, I'll be your anything."

Patrick sang it back, rocking them together to the slowed-down tempo, then went into the bridge. "I whisper everything into your skin." He echoed the lyrics with his body, mouth moving along Matt's collarbone with every barely-there word.

"Every touch you take says let me in," sang Matt, face still hiding in the crook of Patrick's neck.

He tightened again, and Patrick couldn't resist it any longer. He flipped them over again, Matt on his back with his hair splayed out over the rucked-up blankets at the foot of the bed, his legs still wrapped around Patrick's hips, mouth perfect for kissing while Patrick began a punishing rhythm to the finish. They didn't manage any more songs or words or anything but gasps and moans and the visceral sound of their bodies moving in the quiet room. 

It didn't take long after that, and Matt was the one who went first, a few strokes of Patrick's hand sending him over the edge with a cry, giving Patrick a visual that sent him tumbling after. The pleasure was intense and emotional as well physical, and he ended up panting into Matt's neck while heat radiated off them both and their sweat started to dry.

"I'm so glad you looked me up on youtube," said Matt with a laugh.

Patrick laughed with him, a little breathless and a little broken, but they were mending everything that he'd torn apart bit by bit, kiss by kiss. Song by song.

Which reminded him of the idea he'd had, and he pushed himself up on his arms to grin crookedly down at his lover and co-writer. "So, I think that fuck would make a great song."

"You, I, what?" said Matt, eyes lit up with delight at the very idea of it.

They talked while changing the sheets, while they showered and dressed and made themselves lunch, and by the time Mrs. Honeycutt got home they had the bones of a new song full of contradictions, in turns sensual and sweet, and threaded through with love.


End file.
